


A Not So Wonderful Life

by turps



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-14 18:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: Gerard has a decision to make, thankfully he has someone -- or something -- to help him.





	A Not So Wonderful Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akamine_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/gifts).



> Thank you to my beta, themoononastick <3
> 
> Warnings for talk about death, dying and wanting to die.

If Gerard had thought about it -- and to be honest, sometimes he had, in detail -- he still wouldn’t have thought that this was the way that he’d die.

It was too boring, too mundane. He thought he’d die saving a life. Or be electrocuted in a freak accident on stage involving water and a frayed wire. On occasions he’d even thought he’d die in a massive radioactive explosion, and then come back as some kind of disfigured emo mutant with powers. But not this.

Not lying in his bunk on filthy blankets, sweat soaked and trembling, vomit burning his throat and his hands shaking as he gasps for breath.

No, Gerard wasn’t meant to die like this, but the more he fights for air and keeps failing, the more peaceful he feels, as if a heavy weight has finally been lifted from off of his shoulders.

“So that’s it. You’re just going to give up?”

Gerard’s eyes are wide, and he can feel a tear trail down his cheek. He makes no attempt to wipe it away, even that small effort feeling too much.

“Because to be honest, despite how you’ve been lately, I expected more. Not this pathetic excuse for a quitter.”

The world starts to fade all around him, the photos attached to the roof of his bunk replaced by grey fog. Gerard closes his eyes. He’s so tired, and in a way he doesn’t want to acknowledge even to himself, grateful that at last, the struggle to keep living has been taken away.

“You’re just going to leave? Your friends. Your family. You’re just going to leave Mikey.”

“No,” Gerard says, or tries to. His throat closing off, barely any air getting through to his lungs. “No,” he tries again, because that’s not right. Gerard doesn’t want to leave any of them, especially Mikey, but the thing is, now he’s got no choice. Everything is so hard, and Gerard’s too tired to keep fighting.

“Bullshit, no. You’re leaving him. You’re leaving everyone. You’re a quitter.”

Gerard’s head is buzzing, his chest aching and he wants to explain that no matter what this person thinks, it’s better this way. Gerard really doesn’t want to leave, but at least now he’ll stop dragging people down. If he dies, Mikey will get to live a life without worry, and that’s a positive in this whole sucky situation.

“For fucks sake. I thought you had more intelligence than this. But I guess not. A quitter and stupid.”

Gerard would protest, but really, if the shoe fits. The last year has been one full of bad actions and stupid decisions. At least this one has a golden lining.

“That your family and friends get to mourn you? Yeah, that’s a great golden lining.” There’s the sound of something moving, the scent of burning, and then, “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this. But I guess when you’re looking after someone as dumb as a rock you have to embrace the cliche.”

A flash of white light, Gerard trying desperately to pull in a breath, and then, finally, everything goes black.

~*~*~*~

“Am I dead?” Feeling unsteady, Gerard looks around him, taking in a whole lot of nothing. All around him is an expanse of empty white space, completely blank apart from whispers of dark smoke that curl at floor level, drifting in a non-existent breeze. “I expected more.”

“Like the pearly gates of heaven? Or I suppose in your case, the fiery gates of hell.”

“I don’t know, I….” Gerard trails off, turning so he can see who’s actually been speaking all this time, and when he does, he can’t help exclaiming. “You’re an elf.”

“An elf?! Do I look like I work for Father Christmas? Am I wearing a stupid bell?” the not-elf says, pointed chin thrust forward as he stares up at Gerard. “I swear, the drugs and alcohol have damaged your brain, you didn’t used to be so stupid.”

“You know me?” Gerard’s sure that’s not true, because really, he would remember if he knew a four foot tall _thing_ that comes complete with a drooping red mustache and a far too angular face. “Because I don’t know you. At least, I don’t think so. We could have bumped into each other at a comic con one time.”

The not-elf makes a noise, loud and drawn out and complete with a sprinkle of saliva. “Yes I know you. I’ve been watching you forever. Too long in fact.”

Gerard takes a slow step back. “Watching me? That sounds a bit stalkery.”

“Stalkery is in the contract.” The not-elf sighs, rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine. I guess we’ll have to do this. I’ll spend time explaining things that you shouldn’t know while I should be having a nice block of cheese with the others while gossiping about our humans. “You’re Gerard, and I’m Brad. I’m your yickeive and I’m bound to watch and protect you.”

“Yickeive?” Gerard tries out the word, which feels wrong and unfamiliar on his tongue. “Is that Swedish?”

“No, it’s not Swedish”, the not-elf says slowly, rolling his eyes yet again. “It’s not anything you’ve heard of. To cut down this boring story, it means protector. And that’s what I do. Watch and protect you.”

“You’re not doing a very good job.” The words slip out without thought, and Gerard flinches when Brad bristles, the scales on his neck rising alarmingly. “I just mean. With me being dead and everything.”

“Do you know how hard it’s been watching you?” Hands on his stumpy hips, Brad curls his lips, exposing sharp teeth. “And not just lately either. We’ve got an assignment for you, they said. It’s a new baby boy, they said. He’s adorable they said. They didn’t say he was a future addict with a god complex and a total disregard for personal safety.”

“I don’t have a god complex,” that Gerard has to protest. “And I have regard for my personal safety. I’m not Mikey.”

“Mikey, don’t mention Mikey. Walter’s nearly lost all her scales because of him.” Brad shakes his head, looking mournful as he adds, “They used to be red. Now they’re white.”

“Mikey’s protector is a female called Walter? And you’re called Brad.” While he’s aware it’s not the thing he should be honing in on at this particular point in time, Gerard has to make a comment, because come on, _Walter_.

Almost quivering in agitation, Brad says, “And your point is? I know you’ve been stupid lately but you don’t normally conform to gender naming rules.”

“Well, they’re very pedestrian names, that’s all,” Gerard says, focussing on Brad and trying to ignore the vast area of nothing that surrounds them. “I mean, they’re nice and all. But they sound like you should be working in a Walmart.”

“There’s nothing wrong with working at Walmart,” Brad says, glaring in a way that makes him look like a demonic be-scaled gargoyle. “And for your information we picked our own human names, our actual names are beyond anything your tiny mind could comprehend.”

Gerard considers, and then finally nods. “That makes sense, but you could still tell me anyway.”

“I could.” For a moment Brad does nothing, then rolls his eyes and lets out a sound that’s a mixture of a guttural growl and the noise Frank makes when he’s launching himself into a pit. “Yowgdkahhhsllllwhshhhhhalsss!”

“Okay, Brad it is,” Gerard says, because as cool as that name is, Gerard knows it’s not going to come out of his mouth. Even so, he attempts a soft, “Yowl….” then trails off as a wisp of smoke snakes past his foot. Feeling the cold tendril rasp against his shoe, Gerard shivers, staring around him at the nothingness as he’s suddenly reminded that he’s in a situation that goes beyond talking names with a not-elf. “Fuck, I’m dead.”

“Now he remembers.” Brad throws up his hands, and then pokes Gerard hard in the chest. “But no, you’re not actually dead.”

“So, this is all a fucked-up dream.” That’s something Gerard can believe, it wouldn’t be the first time his dreams have been fucked-up. At least this time there’s no donkeys involved. Or a gimp mask. Or Gabe. “Thank fuck, this place is creepy.”

“It’s supposed to be,” Brad says shortly, tapping his foot. “And stop thinking about that donkey. Seeing it once was enough.”

“You can see my dreams?” It’s an interesting thought, also horrifying in a way that has Gerard channel all his X Men knowledge into trying to construct a mental shield to his mind. “What am I thinking now?”

“That you want a threesome with Wolverine and Jean Grey,” Brad says, and for the first time looks vaguely interested. “You’re also trying to shield your thoughts, and it won’t work. I’m your Protector. I see _everything_.”

“It sounds sinister when you say it like that.” Gerard jumps, his whole body shivering when something slithers past his shoulder. “And I don’t like this place. I want to wake up now.”

“You can’t.” At first Gerard thinks that’s all Brad is going to say, but then he takes a long drawn in breath and adds, “You’re not dreaming. But you’re not dead either. Just close to it. And now you have to chose to live or go on.”

In the distance a light begins to shine, golden and pure, and Gerard’s sure he can feel the comforting brush of a familiar hand against his forehead and the scent of his grandma’s perfume. “That’s grandma?”

Brad shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know if she’s there. I’ve never been through the door, but if you do that’s it. Your time is done, but before you make that decision, I’m here to show you some choices.”

Gerard stumbles in place, the urge to walk toward the door strong as he remembers how hard it’s been lately. How his whole life has felt wrong, every moment of every day spent struggling against addictions that have already become too much. As much as he loves his family and friends, and as much as his heart breaks at the thought of leaving Mikey, at the same time, Gerard’s tired, and the thought of finally saying _enough_ is tempting.

“There you go, quitting again.” Despite rolling his eyes yet again, for a moment Gerard see a flash of emotion change Brad’s expression, as, briefly, he looks genuinely worn-down and saddened. “All this time, all these fuck ups and I still didn’t think it would come to this.”

About to speak, Gerard falls silent when Brad holds up his hand and simply says, “Come on.”

~*~*~*~

“Do you have to do that?” Gerard swallows back bile as he stumbles forward, Brad’s long bony fingers wrapped around his wrist. “And where are we?”  
“I’m sorry, next time we jump time I’ll take you first class on a jet.” For a moment Brad’s fingers tighten, enough Gerard’s sure nails have pierced his skin. “But wait, I forgot. I can’t actually do that, what with bending the streams of time and all that.”

“Okay, terrifying free fall through a wormhole in time it is then,” Gerard says, surreptitiously checking his wrist for blood when Brad lets go. “But can you tell me where we are at least?”

“We’re in your near future, a year after you died.” Brad starts walking, not looking back to ensure Gerard is following. “You say there was a golden lining to you dying? Well, I’m going to show you that’s bullshit.”

Blinking away the lingering flashes in his vision, Gerard starts walking, looking around as he does so. “Hey, I know this place.”

“You should do, you lived here long enough.” His feet thudding against the sidewalk, Brad sidesteps a woman who apparently doesn’t see him at all, or Gerard, something proven when she steps through Gerard without stopping. “And before you say anything inane, yes we’re invisible to everyone here and no, you can’t interact with anything.”

“We’re ghosts,” Gerard says softly, ignoring Brad’s snort of derision. “But I don’t get why we’re here. I haven’t lived here in years.”

“This isn’t about you.” Stopping in place, Brad turns, looking up at Gerard. “It’s about the people you left behind when you decided to die.”

“You said I’m not dead yet,” Gerard points out, and then, “And I didn’t chose to die. You don’t know what it’s like. How hard it’s become.”

“What part of I watch you constantly don’t you get?” Brad asks, but beyond the mocking tone, Gerard can hear exhaustion, as if Brad really has watched and suffered along with Gerard. “I’ve seen everything, and now you need to see this.”

“My parents?” Gerard’s suspects it’s the right answer, especially when they approach his former childhood home and sees his dad’s car in the driveway. “Me dying would have destroyed them.”

“It did,” Brad says, making no additional comment as they keep walking forward.

The silence stretching, all Gerard can concentrate on is the sound of his own breathing, too loud and laboured as he slows his steps, reluctant to go into the house. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Well you have to.” Brad stops, eyes narrowed and stance tense, as if, despite his short stature, he’s willing to physically shove Gerard inside if he has to. “You have to see what your choice did, and that there’s no golden lining.”

“Okay fine, I won’t die, I’ll live.” Gerard tries to move back, wanting to run, to do anything but go inside. “You hear me, I chose to live.”

“It’s not that easy,” Brad says, any sympathy well hidden. “You don’t get to end this early. You need to see the consequences of your decision, and you need to see them now.”

“I don’t want to.” Gerard tries to retreat, has taken all of a step back, when suddenly he’s ,moved from outside to inside his old home, the world shifting around him. Instantly memories flood close, both good and bad, and Gerard feels so overwhelmed he wants to drop to his knees. “That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Brad says, indicating a corner of the den. Previously it was dominated by a shabby easy chair covered with a zebra skin throw, now it’s obviously a shrine to Gerard. Despite himself, Gerard needs to look closer, and he takes in the photos of himself surrounding a burning candle and a simple wooden cross.

“Mom did this?” Gerard reaches out, his fingers fading through the photos as he attempts to touch. 

“She did.” Brad leans against the sofa, the light from the candle highlighting the scales on his neck. “She changes the photos every day, then goes to sit by your grave.”

“And dad?” It’s not the question Gerard wants to ask, or the person, but despite dreading the answer, he forces himself to add, “And Mikey?”

“Your dad’s working his ass off to keep his remaining family alive and together. As for Mikey….” Brad trails off, and then says, “Come on.”

His chest aching, Gerard makes his way through the house, able to navigate past the bulky furniture and down the stairs to the basement without thought. It’s only when they approach his old bedroom that Gerard says, “Mikey’s visiting?”

“No.” It’s all Brad says as he opens the door, indicating Gerard should go in. “He came here after your funeral and never left. People visit but what can they do? The person he needs most has left him.”

“That’s not fair.” Gerard wants to yell and scream and kick out at Brad, anything to avoid looking toward the bed, and the person shaped lump under the covers. “I didn’t leave him. I was destroying his life. He had to keep looking after me, and he shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“No, he shouldn’t,” Brad agrees, hooked nose wrinkling as he kicks aside the empty bottles that litter the floor. “But he did it anyway. Because he unconditionally loved you, no matter what you did.”

“What’s wrong with him?” It’s a stupid question, because even as Gerard asks he knows the answer. He’s been there, and is all too familiar with the overwhelming urge to hide from the world with the help of alcohol and drugs.

“He lost the person he loved most, what do you think?” Kicking at another bottle, Brad glares at Gerard. “Then his band folded and he was left with nothing. They all were.”

Hesitant, Gerard approaches the bed and sits, his hand hovering over Mikey’s covered shoulder, pretending he can actually feel the warm of his skin. “I didn’t mean this to happen.”

“Of course you didn’t, but it did.” Stalking across the room, Brad stands directly in front of Gerard, demanding attention. “You died and without you the band couldn’t go on. Without you everything changed and Frank exhausts himself with his multiple bands and songs that make his throat bleed due to him screaming the lyrics, while Ray tries to pretend he’s fine when he’s crumbling inside. Without you…”

“Stop. You need to stop. I get it.” Desperately, Gerard tries to touch Mikey, to shake his shoulder and wake him up -- but he can’t. 

“It’s time to go now,” Brad says, taking hold of Gerard’s wrist. “You’ve seen what happens if you chose to die. Now we’ve got to move on.”

Gerard slumps, light-headed and already dreading seeing what’s next. “What now? Are we going to see that they’re all dead. That I’ve killed them all, too?”

“No,” Brad says then, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

~*~*~*~

“I don’t understand.” His throat raw and eyes still wet, Gerard looks around, taking in what’s obviously a family kitchen. “Where are we?”

“You’re home.” Hopping up onto a stool, Brad flicks at a pile of papers, snorting when he reveals a rough sketch. “Your home in fact. The future you’ll have if you don’t give up.”

“This is my place?” Gerard’s sure that Brad has to be joking, because a place like this could never be Gerard’s. It’s too big, too shiny, and filled with things that are obviously well chosen and loved. It’s nothing like Gerard expected his life to be, and he wanders the space, looking at the drawings stuck to the refrigerator, alongside a selections of candid photos. “That’s me.”

“It is,” Brad agrees, still rifling through the sketches. “And your wife and daughter.”

“I’m married? And a dad?” It’s something Gerard finds hard to believe. Sure, he’s fallen in love before, but enough to get married? To find someone who actually wanted to marry him. It seems like an impossible dream, and Gerard looks closely at the photo. “Is that Lindsey? She married me? And fuck, I look old.”

“You look older,” Brad corrects, his nails scraping against the worktop as he pushes the sketches aside. “You also look healthy. You just don’t recognise the look on yourself yet.”

“I guess.” Gerard rests his fingertips over the photo, unable to look away. “I’ve got a daughter.”

“You have.” Brad slides off the stool, moving to stand next to Gerard. “She’s called Bandit and she’s your world. Her and Lindsey.”

“My wife,” Gerard says, almost under his breath. While he hasn’t known Lindsey that long, or Bandit at all, somehow it feels like he does, like an inevitability is settling around him, easing the heavy weight in his chest that seems to have been there for a lifetime. “And the others?” More than anything wishing he could actually touch things like Brad, Gerard points at more photos half concealed behind a childish drawing of a red-painted dragon. “Are they okay?”

“Better than okay.” Pushing Gerard’s hand aside, Brad reveals the photos, and Gerard sees Mikey holding a baby, Ray with a toddler perched on his lap, Frank surrounded by Jamia, three kids and an assortment of dogs. “We’re all dads? _Mikey’s_ a dad?” It’s almost impossible to believe, not so much for Frank and Ray, but for Mikey…. Gerard’s finding it hard to take in, even if, more than anything he wants it to be true. “And Frank’s still with Jamia. I knew it.”

“Some things are destined, like those two,” Brad says, and then, “And yes, you’re all dads, even Mikey. And you’re all happy. It just took some of you a while to get there.”

“And Bob?” All too aware of the absence of Bob’s photo, Gerard tries to understand its absence, hoping that somehow, it’s simply fell from the others.”

“Bob took his own path, he’s okay, just doing his own thing,” Brad says, making no attempt to elaborate. “Drives his Watcher insane mind you, but what can you do?”

“As long as he’s okay.” Swallowing hard, Gerard tears his gaze away from the photos, taking in the kitchen again. Compared to the one from his childhood it’s huge, even bigger than some of the apartments he lived in while starting the band. But despite the gleaming appliances and healthily stocked fruit bowls, it also feels right, like Gerard’s meant to be there.

“So what now?” Gerard walks around the kitchen island, desperate to explore the rest of the house. “Is this Wonderful Life shit over? Do I get to go back now?”

“Nearly,” Brad says, and snorts, saying to himself, “Always they bring up _It’s A Wonderful Like_ as if it were original or something.”

Catching the words, Gerard pulls his attention from the calendar on the wall, one that’s actually filled in correctly with appointments and times, and turns to Brad. “You’ve done this before?”

“Of course I have,” Brad says, and waves his arms in the air. “We all have, not always with our present charges, but sometimes. You humans are predictable, most make bad choices. Though of course, most aren’t as bad as yours.”

Gerard shrugs, unable to disagree with that assessment. Then looks directly at Brad. “If you’ve had other charges you must be old.”

“Old enough to know we need to get going,” Brad says, leaping forward and grasping Gerard’s wrist. “And no, before you ask I’m not going to tell you about the others I’ve watched.”

“I wasn’t….” Gerard trails off at Brad’s stern look. “Okay, maybe I was, but can’t we stay here a bit longer? I want to see more. Or is that not allowed? What happens if I see Lindsey or Bandit? Or myself? Will the world and time collapse generating armageddon?”

Brad clenches his hand, his nails digging uncomfortably against Gerard’s skin. “You watch too many movies, and think too much of yourself. And, it’s not like you can talk to the older you anyway. Or touch him, no matter how much you might want to.”

“What are….” About to protest, Gerard trails off when caught by Brad’s steely look, one that suggests that Brad really does know Gerard well. 

“Exactly!” Using his free hand, Brad points his long index finger at Gerard. “I’ve seen what you think about, and I don’t want to see that in reality, and yes, as extensive and imaginative as your thoughts are, that includes the Padawan/Older you role-play you keep going back to.”

“It’s a classic theme,” Gerard mutters, forcing back any embarrassment, because really, there’s nothing wrong with thinking about masterly self clones. “And it’s not like I told anyone, writing it down doesn’t count.” Warming to his argument, Gerard snaps his mouth shut as yet again the world spins around him, and suddenly he’s thrown into yet another place, landing barely inches from a set of garden chairs. “Seriously, some warning.”

Loosening his grip, Brad says, “You needed to shut up, and look.”

At first Gerard isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but then he sees a gathering of people inside of the house, clustered around a woman holding a newborn baby.

“Is that….”

“Mikey’s wife and daughter.” Hand on Gerard’s back, Brad pushes him forward toward the open french doors. “They can’t see you.”

Barely breathing, Gerard moves close, glad of the stabilizing feel of Brad’s hand when he sees Mikey appear, smiling when he takes the tiny baby from the woman.

“They’re called Kristen and Rowan,” Brad says, and then, “He’s happy, they all are now.”

It’s then Gerard pulls his gaze from Mikey, and sees Ray sitting on a sofa, beer bottle clutched in his hand, beaming as he watches Mikey cradle his daughter. Right by his side Frank leans in close, laughing as Mikey tentatively walks close, so careful, as if he’s holding the most precious thing in the world.

“Sit down already,” Frank moves so he’s half sitting on Ray, making room for Mikey. “Then I demand more cuddles as an honorary uncle.”

“You’ll have to wait your turn.”

Gerard gasps as he sees himself step into view. Still so much older, almost shockingly so if it wasn’t for the fact Brad is right. Despite the lines and grey hairs that are starting to appear, other older Gerard looks healthy and happy, and perfectly content as he wedges himself onto the sofa so he can peer down at his new niece.

“Hi beautiful.”

“Hi,” Frank says in reply, laughing when Ray tries to elbow him in the ribs and Gerard reaches past Mikey to tug at Frank’s ear.

“They really do look happy,” Gerard says, aching with the need to reach out and touch. “I look happy.”

“You are, and will be.” Brad clears his throat, his voice serious as he says, “It won’t be easy. For you or any of them, but you can get there. Just, you need to get through a lot of shit first.”

“That’s okay, I can do it,” Gerard says, and he means it, he’ll do and go through anything to get to this moment. 

“Not so fast.” Brad steps in front of Gerard, waving his hand to attract attention. “It’s easy to say that now, but think of earlier. How you felt in the bus. As soon as you’re back you’ll feel that way again. There are no easy options.”

Gerard’s instinctive reaction is to say that he knows that, and that he’s made his decision, and mostly he has. It’s just, despite the glowing future in front of him, part of Gerard recoils at the thought of what he needs to get through first.

“Good, you’re learning.” For the first time Brad smiles slightly, exposing wickedly sharp teeth. “I’ve seen too many people push their fears aside as they fix on the future, but you can’t get that without dealing with the past.”

“I guess.” Gerard frowns, thinking about Brad’s words. “And getting through the present. I mean, my present when we go back to the past. Fuck, this time shit is complicated.”

“Tell me about it.” Brad huffs out a breath, long-suffering as he adds, “We need to go, you’ve a decision to make.”

“Already?” Gerard says, watching himself take hold of his niece, how Kristen bends over Mikey from behind, casually kissing the top of his head, how Frank mimics vomiting, even as he grins at Ray, who simply leans back, looking content as he stretches his legs. “Can’t we stay a bit longer?”

“You can get here again one day,” Brad says in reply, and takes hold of Gerard’s wrist. “Ready?”

“No. Wait.” But it’s no use, already the world is greying out and from one blink to the next, Gerard is hurtled into a world full of pain, shaking violently as he huddles in on himself. “Brad.” Gerard barely manages the word, his throat raw and burning with bile, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to remember. “Brad.”

“I’m here.” There’s a feel of a hand against Gerard’s cheek, the scrape of scales against skin, and then, “It’s your decision, Gerard. I’ve shown you the future, now it’s up to you.”

“What if I can’t do it?” It had seemed so easy just moments before, but now Gerard feels like he’s tearing apart, tears leaking as clutches his hands into fists. “I’m not strong enough.”

“Yes you are.” It’s all Brad says, but he sounds sure, and Gerard holds onto that conviction as he remembers what he’s just seen. That no matter how much things hurt now, he has got something to aim for.

“Okay. Okay.” Haltingly, Gerard opens his eyes, gathering the shredded remains of his strength as gropes for his phone, knowing what he needs to do.

“Good. I knew you could do it.” A last touch and briefly Brad appears in Gerard’s line of vision. A short bad-tempered not-elf-looking thing, his moustache bristling as he leans in close and says, “I’ll be watching.”

Gerard nods, hands trembling as he punches in a number, as he says, “Thank you,” pushing his cheek against Brad’s hand in a last touch of hand against skin, Brad disappearing as Gerard says, “Brian. I need help.”


End file.
